


Drabble Collection

by ZombieCheeze



Category: Block B, EXO (Band), Winner (Band), iKON (Kpop)
Genre: BDSM Scene, Ball Gags, Blindfolds, Bondage, Cheating kink, Double Penetration, Drabble Collection, Drunk Sex, Face-Sitting, Fighter Pilots, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, More BDSM, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Photography Kink, Polyamory, Rimming, Sensory Deprivation, Sex Toys, Sybian, Threesome - M/M/M, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-21 18:35:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 12,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7398829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieCheeze/pseuds/ZombieCheeze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some short pieces from my collection of unfinished works.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Armor Down Rough Draft [Bobby/B.I, E]

**Author's Note:**

> Going through all my old stuff and first drafts :) Found some stuff that was pretty good, so I figured I'd share with you. I hope you like it <3
> 
> Please subscribe for updates! <3
> 
> This particular drabble is from the rough draft of [Armor Down](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6282430). It is unedited.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Light BDSM, face sitting

"Shh, shh.” Bobby’s voice is soft, his lips brushing against Hanbin’s lower back.  “Quiet, now.  You don’t want to wake everyone up."  Hanbin’s chest heaves with effort, but he swallows back another moan, his back arching when Bobby’s tongue sweeps hot and wet over his entrance.

 

“Good boy.  Keep quiet for me.” Bobby whispers, punctuating his request with a thumb pressed to Hanbin’s entrance, fluttering pressure against his tight hole making Hanbin bite his lip.  He draws a sharp breath through his nose, trying to keep still as Bobby’s tongue flicks around his fingers, the tips of which are just barely stretching Hanbin open.

 

Bobby’s fingers reach forward to trace Hanbin’s lips when Hanbin holds his breath, cupping Hanbin’s jaw firmly and squeezing.  “No cheating.  Breathe.” He murmurs, at the same time slipping his wet fingers inside Hanbin’s entrance completely, and Hanbin gasps, catches a moan on the tip of his tongue, presses his face into the mattress.

 

“Yeah, that’s what you wanted?” Bobby’s tongue skates over his entrance again, so lewd and wet, and Hanbin hiccups, unable to keep the tiny sound from leaving his mouth.  He nods, pushing back against Bobby helplessly, still as silent as he can possibly be, his chest heaving.  “You want me inside you, is that right?"

 

Hanbin nods again, frantic, his body twitching and bucking against Bobby’s fingers as he fucks him.  “Such a pretty slut, baby.  Don’t worry, hyung’s got you.  You want to come?” Bobby can read him so easily, see the tension in his spine and his muscles crawling in anticipation, his fingers pushing hard against Hanbin’s prostate.  Hanbin twists back against him, a gasp leaving his mouth again, just shy of a moan.  He’s cracking, and Bobby knows it better than Hanbin.

 

Hanbin does moan softly, just as his body arches in pursuit of orgasm, his fingers clawing at the sheets; but Bobby stills instantly, his fingers retracting, the stretch of Hanbin’s wet entrance around them squeezing his withdrawing fingers in vain.  Hanbin lets out a shaky breath, frustrated and angry but utterly silent.

 

“What did I say?” Bobby says coolly, the pad of his thumb resting against Hanbin’s pink hole again just to tease him.  Hanbin bites his lip, presses his index finger to his trembling mouth.  He can hear Bobby’s smile in his next words.  “That’s right.  If you don’t keep quiet, you’d better not plan on coming.  And when I decide you can come, you’d better stay quiet then too.”

 

Hanbin trembles again as Bobby’s tongue returns to his entrance, swiping over his sensitive hole.  The unspoken _or I’ll hurt you_  at the end of Bobby’s sentence is enough to make Hanbin choke down even his gasps. 

 

“See, it’s not so hard, right?” Bobby murmurs, his fingers sinking back into Hanbin smoothly, other hand teasing at the underside of Hanbin’s cock.  “Don’t make a sound, and I’ll let you come.” Hanbin bites back a gasp as Bobby’s tongue slips from around his fingers to tongue at the underside of his balls.  It’s sloppy and wet, Bobby’s saliva dripping down his thighs, his tongue warm and coarse like a soapy washcloth. 

 

Bobby ducks low to lick at the bead of precum on the head of Hanbin’s cock, the angle awkward but worth it when Hanbin’s whole body quivers, Hanbin sucking in a shaky breath through his nose as heat pools in his belly with urgency.

 

“Come here, baby.” Bobby croons, laying down beneath Hanbin and tugging at his hips. “Sit on hyung's face, I wanna taste you.”

 

Hanbin lets Bobby reposition him until he’s hovering, trembling all the while, desperate to come and utterly silent.  Bobby’s hands, tacky with lube and sweat, are holding Hanbin’s cheeks apart as his tongue works over and over Hanbin’s sensitive hole.  “You wanna come, I bet.” Bobby says between licks, “You’re being so good.  You think can you get off just like this for me?”

 

Hanbin shakes his head _no_ , sniffling helplessly, maddened by the way Bobby’s playing his body so casually and just short— _just_  short—of what he needs to come.  He’s tried, and Bobby’s rough tongue feels _so_ goddamn good, but there’s just not quite enough to push him over the edge. 

 

“You can touch yourself, then.” Bobby murmurs, “But remember what I told you.” Hanbin hesitates for a moment before curling a hand around his cock, attempting to gain some control over his breathing as Bobby’s tongue wiggles firmly past the tightness of his entrance.

 

Hanbin’s lost.  He bites down on his tongue, stifling the moan that threatens to break free against the tingling heat that floods him, coming over his hand, a few flecks of cum landing in Bobby’s hair as his hips jerk against the tightness of his hand.

 

“Mm, good boy.” Bobby whispers, running hands up Hanbin’s ribs affectionately, “So fucking good, coming for hyung just like I asked.”

 

Hanbin lets out a long sigh as his body crumples with exhaustion, Bobby’s praise settling like missing puzzle pieces into his mind, the tension slipping out of his shoulders almost instantly.  “You’re so good, baby.” Bobby whispers, pulling Hanbin down onto the bed where he can crawl over him, nuzzling at his jaw and kissing him.  “What do you say?”

 

“Thank you, hyung.” Hanbin murmurs, his eyes fluttering closed when Bobby kisses his temple.


	2. Untitled [Bobby/B.I, M]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Untitled drabble from May '16.

He’s dancing by the bar when Bobby spots him for the first time.

 

His white leather jacket hangs open to show the mesh shirt he’s got underneath, a little flash of skin bared in an agonizing tease, black jeans tight on his hips. His sandy hair is brushed back neatly from his face, coiffed on top and shaved close on the sides, in a way that should make him look like a fuckboy, but doesn’t—it makes him look like a _lion_ , his smooth, vivid features perfectly clear even in the dim light, his expression fierce.

 

His generous lower lip is caught between his teeth as his hands find the hips of the girl in front of him, mouth so soft-looking Bobby runs his tongue over his own lower lip in anticipation. No one else will do; Bobby’s got to have him.

 

Bobby waits, sipping his drink, the pleasant buzz of alcohol beginning to soften the edges of his nerves, because this pretty thing in front of him is bound to have exacting tastes—Bobby would expect nothing less, his eyes flicking over the long line of his neck, the perfect smoothness of his face, and _god_ , he’s fucking gorgeous.

 

He turns toward Bobby, so that Bobby can see his full face, the way his tongue sweeps teasingly over his lower lip—and then his eyes raise to meet Bobby’s over the shoulder of the girl in front of him, a gaze as arresting and potent as a spider bite. He doesn’t stop dancing, but he doesn’t look away, either.

 

Bobby wends his way through the thronging crowd, squinting through the cloud of cigarette smoke and bodies, never once taking his eyes off this pretty boy killing it on the dance floor.

 

Bobby slips into place behind him, hand finding the kid’s arm so as not to spook him. There’s no sign of surprise, although he does turn to cast a sidelong look over his shoulder at Bobby, a smirk tugging at the corner of his generous lips. Bobby leans close, purposefully allowing his mouth to brush against his ear.

 

“Are you old enough to be in here, babe?” He murmurs.

 

He turns toward Bobby to reply, eyes glittering in the low light, no longer focused on the girl in front of him. _Bingo_. “I’m old enough to say yes, if that’s what you’re asking.”

 

“You should be dancing on that bar.” Bobby suggests, licking his lips.

 

“You say that like I have coordination.” He says coolly, but his smirk widens playfully to show his white, white teeth. “I do better down here.”

 

“I’ll just bet you do.”


	3. Untitled OT4 [Bobby/Hanbin/Mino/Zico, M]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Domestic OT4, Zico/Mino/Bobby/Hanbin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A drabble inspired by katzengefluster revolving around domestic poly!OT4 DoubleB/Zino. I always really loved this OT4 a lot, but this is as far as I got with the story, and I thought it a shame to keep it hidden.

It’s Hanbin who wakes Minho up.

 

It usually is; Hanbin wakes up when Bobby gets up, but Bobby’s an early bird, and he’s decidedly the only one in the house. Hanbin usually gets up with Bobby, droopy-eyed and sluggish, and staggers into Minho and Jiho’s darkened room to slide into bed next to them and sleep a little longer.

 

Minho stretches, yawning, and pulls Hanbin a little more tightly against him. Next to them, Jiho snorts and mumbles in his sleep, rolling over and taking all of the blankets with him.

 

“Jiho, you fuck, stop hogging the covers.” Minho says without opening his eyes. Hanbin whines at the sound of his voice, burying his face in Minho’s chest.

 

“Mhuh?” Jiho mumbles, rolling back over, barely awake. “Wha?”

 

“Gimme some covers.”

 

Jiho tugs the blanket back over without speaking, and Minho pulls the covers back over them until they’re cocooned, Jiho rolling over to press against Minho’s back, his arm draped comfortably over both of them.

 

Minho’s much too warm sandwiched between Jiho and Hanbin under the covers, too warm to sleep, and after a while, he’s bored and awake, so he may as well get up to help Bobby in the kitchen.

 

He gently disengages Hanbin from where he’s sprawled out over Minho like a ragdoll, slipping out from underneath Jiho’s limp arm, and scoots down to the end of the bed to find his sleep pants in the pile of laundry waiting to be done this afternoon. Behind him, Hanbin cleaves to Jiho instead. Minho looks fondly back at them both, at Hanbin draping himself bodily over Jiho, and Jiho smiling in his half-sleep as Hanbin nuzzles into his neck.

 

Bobby comes in quietly while Minho’s picking a shirt out of the pile, greeting him with the big, dumb, luminous grin he’s never been able to say no to, as bright as the morning sun he can see creeping across the hall from the kitchen window.

 

“You’re up early.” Bobby murmurs. Minho nods, lets Bobby kiss his cheek in greeting before grabbing him up to kiss him more fully, and Bobby giggles. “Are the others still asleep?”

 

“No.” Jiho interjects unexpectedly. “Not with you two making all that fucking noise.”

 

“Quit your bitching, hyung.” Bobby hums. “I’m making breakfast. What do you want?” He crosses the room, walking around the enormous bed and wading through the dirty laundry. He sits down next to Jiho and bounces the mattress until Jiho bats halfheartedly at him. “Keep in mind I’m not a damn short order cook, so you’ll probably get whatever Hanbin wants.”

 

“Pancakes.” Hanbin mumbles from behind Jiho.

 

“’Kay. And no fucking in here while I’m making breakfast. I don’t want to be left out.” Bobby pokes Jiho a few times, just to be annoying.

 

“Go fuck Minho-hyung.” Hanbin groans, muffled into Jiho’s collarbone and half underneath the covers.

 

“Yeah, come fuck Minho-hyung.” Minho says, laughing as he pulls a shirt over his head.

 

“Will you two shut. The fuck. Up.” Jiho says, covering his head with a pillow.

 

Minho follows Bobby into the kitchen, pushing him up against the counter when Bobby bends down to pull a frying pan from underneath the stove.

 

Breakfast takes a while.


	4. Secrets [Chanyeol/Kai/D.O, E]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EXO, Chanyeol/Kai/D.O, OT3, Double penetration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Izzy. You know why. ;D

“I don’t care if the internet says it’s technically possible, I don’t think it’s going to work.  _Especially_ not with you two.”

 

Chanyeol finds it funnier than he probably ought to that they’re having this conversation naked, but he only just manages to keep his giggles to himself.  He’s got to keep his hysteria under control, but if he’s honest, he’s just as nervous as Kyungsoo.

 

It had been originally Jongin’s idea.  Jongin’s appetite for porn had led him to share his favorites with most of the group, and he’d been watching the same threesome on repeat for days before finally breaching the subject with Chanyeol and Kyungsoo.  Kyungsoo had been interested but doubtful, and Chanyeol’s natural people-pleasing attitude had him agreeing wholeheartedly up front.

 

Now that Chanyeol's staring at Kyungsoo’s bare ass in context, it seems more and more unlikely that he’d really be able to handle them both, or that Chanyeol will be able to pull this off without hurting him.  Sometimes he doesn’t know why he ever agrees to Jongin’s crazy plans.

 

“What do you mean, _especially with us two_?” Jongin says, leaning casually on an elbow, the other arm extended to reach for Kyungsoo and pull him onto the bed.  “I’m feeling a little affronted here.  It worked fine in the video.” His pout is too theatrical to be real, but Kyungsoo grimaces anyway.

 

“Yeah, and if you think porn is a good representation of real life, you’re even stupider than you take me for.  You guys are both…well, huge.  I’m not.” Kyungsoo says dubiously, allowing Jongin to muffle the last word with a kiss.

 

“Yeah, but you…uh…I don’t…actually, that’s a good point.” Chanyeol frowns, settling on the bed behind Kyungsoo and running a hand up Kyungsoo’s spine.

 

“Shut up, Chanyeol.” Jongin murmurs calmly against Kyungsoo’s lips.

 

“’Kay.” Chanyeol shuts up, moves his hand from Kyungsoo’s ribs down over the curve of his waist to narrow hips, squeezing the fullness of his ass cheek before spreading a hand over Kyungsoo’s belly.  Kyungsoo trembles slightly, eager and aroused, but Chanyeol doesn’t move his hand lower just yet.

 

“Ah, don’t tease.” Kyungsoo says thickly as Jongin bites his lower lip, sucks it into his mouth.  Chanyeol strokes one of Kyungsoo’s nipples lightly from behind.  His cock is resting against the back of Kyungsoo’s thigh, hot and hard, and he moans deeply when Kyungsoo twitches again.

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Jongin says quietly, burying himself in Kyungsoo’s neck to bite gently at the sensitive flesh there and bumping heads with Chanyeol; Kyungsoo turns his head to watch them kiss over him, burning with the need to be touched.

 

Jongin and Chanyeol break apart slowly.  Kyungsoo reaches up to snatch at a handful of Chanyeol’s hair and drag him down, refocusing the attention on himself, with Chanyeol hissing in pain but opening greedily for the plushness of Kyungsoo’s lips.  Chanyeol likes it when Kyungsoo gets grabby with him, and he knows Kyungsoo likes it when Chanyeol manhandles _him_.

 

But for now, Chanyeol lets Kyungsoo tug on his hair, allowing him to lead, because Kyungsoo isn’t really in control of the situation, for all of his being the fulcrum of the entire scene.  Jongin is trailing down Kyungsoo’s belly, brushing his impossible lips over the few short hairs that arrow down from his navel, and Kyungsoo is already squirming, moaning softly into Chanyeol’s mouth.

 

“Tell us what you want.” Chanyeol murmurs against Kyungsoo’s bitten lips, and Kyungsoo moans at the tone of his voice.  It seems to shake his nerves, coasting over his skin and leaving trails of gooseflesh in its wake.  Jongin wraps a hot palm around Kyungsoo’s cock.

 

“Fuck, just touch me.” Kyungsoo says, already losing control of himself too, and he digs his fingers into Chanyeol’s shoulder as Jongin strokes him from base to tip.

 

It’s like a dream, the way the room swims vaguely in Chanyeol’s vision, watching Jongin close his lips over Kyungsoo’s cock.  He never gets tired of seeing that, no matter whose cock, no matter where—Jongin sucks dick like popsicles on a Sunday, and Chanyeol loves watching him.

 

But he loves watching Kyungsoo squirm too, and focuses on him instead, watches Kyungsoo’s eyebrows furrow and his mouth tighten, encourages his soft noises with a tweak to a nipple, gentle at first and then harder, until Kyungsoo is twisting against the pillows, one hand tangled in Jongin’s brittle, overprocessed hair.  The other is closed loosely around Chanyeol’s cock, because Kyungsoo doesn’t have the brain power to remember to move his hand _and_ focus on whatever magic Jongin is working on him. 

 

Chanyeol doesn’t mind.  He reaches down as Jongin places both hands under Kyungsoo’s knees and pushes them to Kyungsoo’s chest.  Chanyeol holds one of Kyungsoo’s knees up, and Jongin braces the other as he dives lower, tongue skating lightly over Kyungsoo’s entrance.  Kyungsoo shivers.

 

“I really don’t think you’re both going to fit.” He mutters, gazing at a point over Chanyeol’s shoulder.  Jongin laughs softly at this, pushing two fingers into his own mouth to wet them before burying them in Kyungsoo, who gasps in surprise as much as pleasure.

 

Jongin releases Kyungsoo’s leg to rest at an angle on the bed next to him.  “Don’t be worried, hyung.  You say stop, we stop.” Jongin lays the slightest stress on the honorific, and Kyungsoo swallows and makes a sound to the affirmative before letting Chanyeol kiss him again.

 

Jongin lies down on his back, patting his lap, and Kyungsoo obediently swings a leg over Jongin’s own legs and settles himself on top of Jongin’s hips.  Chanyeol follows, careful not to squash Jongin’s legs, and his outline is astounding above Kyungsoo; he’s still a full head taller than Kyungsoo even like this, and that’s when Jongin gets his first inkling so far that this might in fact be a tall order after all, pun absolutely intended.

 

Chanyeol grasps Kyungsoo’s hips in his big hands and lifts him.  Jongin’s cock slides against the cleft of his ass, slippery with lube.  Kyungsoo shivers pleasurably as Jongin’s fingers dig into his thighs in anticipation.

 

The pressure of Jongin’s cock sinking into him is heady, slow, deliciously hot.  Kyungsoo bites his lip to silence the moan building up in his throat, though for what reason he doesn’t really know.  He just knows that for as intense as this is now, it’s about to skyrocket, and he’s still a little nervous for all the pleasure sparking through his body.  Chanyeol moans in his stead, resting his forehead against Kyungsoo’s shoulder.

 

“Fuck.” Jongin says, voice cracking as Kyungsoo settles, Jongin fully seated inside of him.  Kyungsoo is tight, always so tight, his body gripping and squeezing Jongin so tightly it forces the breath from his lungs.  The slide of Kyungsoo’s body against his cock has him gripping Kyungsoo’s hips, Chanyeol’s fingers over the top of Jongin’s hands, guiding Kyungsoo into a rhythm that has them all moaning again as he rides.  Kyungsoo’s head falls back onto Chanyeol’s shoulder, and they share a sloppy kiss, more tongue and panting breath than lips.

 

They break apart only when Chanyeol’s fingers, wet and cold with lube, stroke along the sensitive rim of Kyungsoo’s stretched entrance.  “Chanyeol…” Kyungsoo mutters, falling forward onto shaky arms over Jongin.  Jongin reaches up to grip Kyungsoo’s hand in his own, fingers interlaced, knuckles white with tension.

 

“I’ll go easy, don’t worry,” Chanyeol says.  He braces a palm on Kyungsoo’s lower back as he drips more lube onto Kyungsoo’s ass.

 

“I’m not worried,” Kyungsoo hisses.  “I’m just— _ah_ …” Whatever he’d meant to say drowns in a sharp moan as Chanyeol works a finger inside Kyungsoo along Jongin’s cock.  “Ah, _fuck_ …”

 

“Okay?” Jongin says, squeezing Kyungsoo’s hand, and Kyungsoo nods, his eyes closed, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead.

 

The second and third fingers take a little longer, and by the time Chanyeol’s ring finger slips gently inside along the other two, Jongin’s hips are working helplessly beneath Kyungsoo, unable to resist the dual stimulation.  Kyungsoo is gasping, hardly able to draw a full breath already.

 

“Ready?” Chanyeol says, and his voice is rough and deep, like a hand run the wrong way over black velvet.  Kyungsoo nods again, half-blind with need and overstimulation.  The pressure is impossible, insurmountable, overwhelming; he tastes the words  _stop, no, I can’t take it_ —and then the head of Chanyeol’s cock slips in, the discomfort passes.  Intensity rakes over his nerves and he shivers, sighs, swallows hard as Chanyeol slides in further, Jongin cradling his face in hard hands.

 

Chanyeol has to use all of his considerable self-restraint not to slam into Kyungsoo as the head of his cock squeezes in alongside Jongin’s length.  Kyungsoo is panting openly, his face drawn and tight, his fingernails leaving little crescent-shaped marks in Jongin’s golden skin.

 

“Does it hurt?” Jongin asks, and Kyungsoo can’t respond, doesn’t know how to use words.  The sheer pressure inside him has forced all the air from his lungs.  His eyes wide and gaze unfocused, he stares down at Jongin, struggling to draw a breath as his body adjusts to the intrusion.

 

There’s not enough room between the three of them to seat himself fully, but once again, Chanyeol doesn’t mind.  He can feel Jongin alongside him, pulsing with the stimulation, and Kyungsoo stretched tightly around both of them, and it’s so damn good he doesn’t know how he’s not dreaming.  Jongin reaches up to brush the sweat from Kyungsoo’s eyes.

 

“Told you…it would work.” Chanyeol rumbles, raking short, neatly manicured fingernails down Kyungsoo’s spine.  Kyungsoo finally finds his breath and a voice to go along with it.  His moan seems to shake the bed, low and hoarse, and if any of them were in their right mind, they might’ve tried to hush him, because Joonmyun's a light sleeper.  As it is, they’re all barely hanging onto themselves, and Kyungsoo’s moans serve only to inflame them further.

 

Kyungsoo’s elbows are locked, holding himself at an angle, but even so, his arms shake desperately.  Chanyeol’s hands are at Kyungsoo’s hips, holding him steady as he starts up a slow, easy rhythm.

 

“God, hyung, you’re fucking _stuffed_ full of dick.  How does it feel?” Jongin says, tone of voice obscene, hands spread in the small of Kyungsoo’s back to pull him back down with every thrust.  Coming from anyone but Jongin, that line would have been so corny it'd make them all laugh; but it's Jongin, and it comes out filthy and promising and intense. 

 

Kyungsoo opens his eyes, and his gaze is still distant, hazy, distracted.  “Fuck, fuck, yes, fuck _,_ oh _fuck_ …” He groans, his voice rougher and more cracked with every repetition.  When Jongin slides in, Chanyeol slides out, and vice versa.  The constant stimulation has the tension coiling in Kyungsoo’s belly, tighter and hotter than he’s ever felt in his life, spreading tendrils of heat over the surface of his skin until he’s on fire with the need to come.

 

“Fuck, please, _please_ ,” Kyungsoo gasps desperately.  He tips his head back, his body pulling at his attention in so many ways that he doesn’t know which to obey, only that he’s pursuing something huge, riding the crest of a tsunami wave and anticipating the crash. 

 

Chanyeol reaches forward as Kyungsoo’s trembling arms give way and wraps one hand firmly around Kyungsoo’s neck, holding him upright as he steadies himself with the other hand on Kyungsoo’s hip.  He’s losing control already, losing the rhythm, and he thrusts forward sharply as his vision goes white.

 

Jongin’s cock thrusts up, in, pushes Chanyeol up against the soft spot inside Kyungsoo that finally pitches him over the edge.  Kyungsoo doesn’t remember screaming, but he’ll never forget the orgasm tearing through him like claws of fire, drawing tight and releasing, pulsing through him like an earthquake.

 

Jongin is the last to come, groaning low in his throat, vision blurring out and his body tightening even as Kyungsoo spills hot and white onto his belly. Then there’s silence but for their breathlessness.  Chanyeol is hunched over Kyungsoo's back, resisting the urge to collapse even as he shakes through the last of his orgasm.

 

Chanyeol is the first to come to his senses, though, and he withdraws carefully from Kyungsoo, wincing.  He lifts Kyungsoo free of Jongin too, and Jongin reaches out to pull Kyungsoo to him again.  Though his eyes are open, Kyungsoo’s body is inert, and Chanyeol lays down next to both of them, frowning.

 

“Are you okay?  Is Kyungsoo okay?” He looks at Jongin, who shrugs.

 

“What the _fuck_ just happened?” Kyungsoo mumbles, almost unintelligible through numb lips, and Jongin laughs aloud.

 

“He’ll be fine.” Jongin says affectionately, leaning forward to kiss Chanyeol, who's fishing inelegantly underneath himself to retrieve a t-shirt to clean themselves up.  Kyungsoo grabs weakly at Jongin's arm.

 

“I’m going to strangle you both.”

 

"Oh yeah.  Definitely fine." Chanyeol says, grinning.  Kyungsoo lets his hand drop, smiling vaguely to himself, allowing Jongin and Chanyeol fuss quietly over him.  Sometimes—very occasionally—the internet's not wrong, after all.


	5. Zipper-Suited Sun Gods [Chanyeol/Kris, M]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fighter pilot!AU and gay jokes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An excuse to write down fighter pilot jokes. There are inaccuracies, but tbh I don't care enough to go back and fix them. Written Jan '15.

 

“ _Break right, two_!” Captain Wu Fan screams, his radar blipping loudly in his headset as he pulls hard on his yoke.  The aircraft screams upward and banks sharply to the left, and he catches a glimpse of the three fighter aircraft gaining swiftly on them, coming out of the east, obscured by the early sun.  He banks right again to level his wings, pushing the stick over until the aircraft pitches into a dive.

 

“Two breaking right.” Lieutenant Park Chanyeol’s voice returns, staticky over the radio, and Wu Fan sees the vapor trails from twin engines as Chanyeol climbs.  “Contact, three by Bandits closing from the east.  Phoenix One, Two requests permission to split and engage with twenty mike-mike.”

 

“What are you asking me for? They're hostile!  Continue dry, and don’t shoot me.” Wu Fan laughs humorlessly, and his radar bleeps again, louder this time, indicating he’s taken a laser hit—he’s done playing.  “Bastards.  I’m hit, Two.”

 

“Yep—I’m hit too.  We’re done.” Chanyeol says calmly.  “I’m joker fuel anyway, this stupid tail is a gas hog.  Time to head back.”

 

The flight back to base is much more relaxing than the exercise, though Wu Fan is seriously unhappy about them both getting killed so quickly by the dark-painted aggressor aircraft; Chanyeol doesn’t seem to mind at all, more interested in showing off, his aircraft dipping and swerving alongside Wu Fan’s steadier flight.

 

“And will you quit that?” Wu Fan snaps over the net, and Chanyeol laughs outright.

 

“You like my high angle of attack.” His voice, already husky from the way his oxygen mask suctions to his face, seems even throatier.

 

“You be quiet.” Wu Fan snaps back, trying not to get distracted.  “Prepare for landing.”

 

They set flaps and glide in for a smooth landing, Wu Fan first and then Chanyeol, taxiing past the hangars and into the parking ramp.  Chanyeol’s crew chief, Sergeant Zhang Yixing, flips Wu Fan the bird as he taxis into his parking spot and begins shutdown checklists.  He thinks he’s going to have to correct that, because don’t they know who he is?  Fighter Pilot Kris Wu Fan, certainly higher and mightier than any puny enlisted punk.

 

He still has no idea that Sergeant Zhang wipes his balls on the inside of Wu Fan’s oxygen mask before every sortie, or that his own crew chief, young Airman Oh Sehun, regularly hides secret boogers on the underside of his yoke handle.  It just doesn’t occur to him that anyone doesn’t admire him as a fighter pilot or as handsome Kris Wu Fan.

 

Airman Oh rolls the air stairs up against the side of the jet, and Wu Fan dismounts, not holding on to the handrails because it looks silly (though he never quite forgot the pain of falling down the metal stairs on his face on his first training sortie).  He salutes as Wu Fan reaches the bottom.

 

“Good sortie, sir?” He drawls in a supremely uninterested voice, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

 

“Slow response to control stick inputs and sluggish on the throttle.  Code three.” Wu Fan waves a hand dismissively.  “Unsatisfactory overall.”

 

“Best performance modification is to tighten the nut behind the wheel.  If anything’s wrong with this jet, I’ll eat my hat.” Airman Oh mutters to himself, penciling the complaints into the logbook; Wu Fan glares at Sehun, as though daring him to say it louder.  “We’ll look into it, sir.” He says, more clearly, and Wu Fan mouths furiously at Oh Sehun before spinning on his heel.

 

After a lengthy debrief in which Chanyeol and Wu Fan’s every maneuver up to and including their simulated shoot-down is deconstructed mercilessly, and by the end of the debrief Chanyeol is yawning deliberately into his hand, clearly disengaged.  Their Intelligence Commander, Major Kim Minseok, glares sternly at them both and taps Chanyeol on the back of the hand with his extendable pointer.  Chanyeol nudges Wu Fan and throws him a sidelong glance, and Wu Fan ignores Chanyeol pointedly, scribbling notes in his notebook but no longer paying attention.

 

A grinning Chanyeol puts his hand on Wu Fan’s thigh as they drive home, and Wu Fan jumps a little.  “Seriously?  You can’t wait till we get home?” He asks, ruffled, and he bats Chanyeol’s hand away and shifts into a lower gear.  Chanyeol chuckles, squeezing Wu Fan’s knee lightly, his fingers creeping up the inner seam of the leg of Wu Fan’s flight suit.

 

“Will you please, just…stop.” Wu Fan says heavily, shoving Chanyeol’s hand out of his crotch as he pulls a left turn. "Not right now, not while I'm driving." 

 

“But flying makes me horny.” Chanyeol whines, trying to pull down Wu Fan’s flightsuit zipper.

 

“Everything makes you horny.” Wu Fan says patiently. " _Later_." 

 

“You’re a dick.” Chanyeol pokes out his lower lip in temper.

 

“And that explains the three-foot zipper.” Wu Fan fires back, and Chanyeol’s pout cracks into a laugh.  “At least go take a shower, you smell like jet fuel and farts.”

 

“Not my fault these things don’t breathe.” Chanyeol tugs at the chest of his overalls, fanning himself vigorously.  "Gross, you're right."

 

“I know.” Wu Fan wrinkles his nose.  Chanyeol cranes his neck to stare conspicuously at Wu Fan’s crotch.

 

“Hey, is that a flashlight in your pocket or—”

 

“DON’T SAY IT—”

 


	6. Untitled [B.I/Junhwe, BDSM, E]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> B.I/Junhwe, BDSM, verbal abuse, cheating kink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the rough draft of Armor Up, March '16.

The difference between Bobby and Junhwe is staggering.  Bobby takes away Hanbin's control in a framework of pleasing him, directing Hanbin as the whim takes him, and Hanbin's job is ultimately to make Bobby happy, to permit Bobby to dote on him.  Junhwe rips control away from Hanbin completely, and Hanbin's job here is to let himself be possessed, little more than a toy. 

 

"You talk so much about being a virgin in interviews, about having never been kissed.  If only they knew how much cock it takes to satisfy you, maybe they'd think a little differently about Kim Hanbin.  All you want is to be stuffed full." Junhwe says softly, gripping Hanbin’s chin to turn his head, looking at him coolly, impersonally. This, more than anything, makes Hanbin feel used, and it makes heat simmer through his veins. "Does Jiwon know you're here, begging me for cock?  Does he know he'll never satisfy you like I will?" He purrs, pushing a knee between Hanbin’s thighs to rub against the crotch of Hanbin’s jeans, where he can feel the hardness of Hanbin’s cock waiting for him. 

 

Hanbin’s shocked at how deeply Junhwe’s words pierce him, like ice on his skin. They’re hardly vicious, spoken in the same cool tone, but Hanbin finds himself reddening, his heart thumping with anger.   There might only be a sliver of truth to them, but that’s what stills him, and he waits, panting with emotion and the pressure of Junhwe’s thigh rubbing against his crotch.

 

And Bobby does know, arranged the whole encounter between them, but Hanbin shakes his head _no_ anyway, and feels the temperature in the room rise another degree.  Junhwe's merciless, his hand firm on Hanbin's jaw, index finger pressing against Hanbin's lips.  He slips two fingers past Hanbin's lips after a moment, fingertips stroking Hanbin's tongue, and then without warning, jerks them against the side of Hanbin's cheek, tugging his head to the side and making him gasp with pain. 

 

"And when I'm done with you, you can take your sloppy hole back to Jiwon and show him how unfaithful you are, show him how hard I fucked you, and you won't be able to stay away." 


	7. [Bobby/B.I/Mino, E]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poly, OT3

Hanbin had slept in his own bed last night, Bobby having gravitated to Minho's some time earlier that evening.  Now Hanbin's home, and the other two are still asleep, cuddled up together, with Bobby drooling on the pillow and Minho pressed against his back.  Bobby's chest is marked from collarbone to hip with purple hickeys, testament to Minho's mouthy possessiveness.

 

"Wakey wakey." Hanbin murmurs, sliding into bed next to Minho, who mumbles and turns to squint at him.

 

"You're home early." Minho mumbles, his husky voice barely a drowsy whisper.

 

"...it's noon." 

 

"I'm up early, then." Minho murmurs. 

 

"Yeah."

 

"Hanbin?" Bobby mumbles, voice creaky with sleep.  Hanbin reaches across Minho to run a hand lightly through Bobby's tangled hair. 

 

"Yeah."

 

"Hi, baby." Bobby says, all affection in his tone, leaning back into the touch of Hanbin's hand.

 

Hanbin lays down on the pillow next to Minho, a little crowded on the edge of the bed, but he drapes an arm over Minho's waist.  Minho hums softly, and Hanbin's already feeling pleasantly sleepy, his eyes slipping shut as his hand finds Bobby's hip, resting comfortably there.

 

"How did you keep Jiwon in bed past six a.m., hyung?" Hanbin says sleepily.

 

"By fucking his brains out." Minho says slowly, to which Bobby groans in affirmation.

 

"That's not fair." Hanbin whines.

 

"Don't whine in my ear, babe.  What's not fair?" Minho says, flinching and rubbing his ear.

 

" _I_ wanted to fuck his brains out." Hanbin says. 

 

"Not a chance.  I won't be able to sit right for a week." Bobby interjects. 

 

Hanbin struggles to sit up and prop himself on an elbow, playing idly with a lock of Minho's hair before reaching across to seize a handful of Bobby’s hair, fingers tightening slowly in the thick strands.  “You sure?”

 

“He fucking wrecked me.” Bobby grumbles.

 

“Doesn't sound like a no to me.” Minho yawns hugely.  “Hanbin, if that's what you want, we’ll make it work.”

 

“I didn't get to play last night.” Hanbin says, pouty.  “I had to sleep and you guys got to have all the fun.”

 

“Aren’t you just a little horndog this morning.” Bobby hums.

 

“…still noon, hyung.”


	8. Filmstar [Bobby/B.I/Junhwe, Photography Voyeurism, E]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanbin's used to the camera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'ed drabble.

"Hanbin. _Babe_."  
  
  
  
The camera flash is harsh, the cock in his mouth harsher as it pushes deep into the back of his throat.  Hanbin chokes, breathing harshly, but the intrusion is gone as quickly as it’d come, and he relaxes a little, allowing the rhythm to control him.  
  
  
  
_Flash_.  
  
  
  
There's another click, and the camera--a small one, a purple plastic Polaroid job--spits out a tiny, grainy picture.  They'd all agreed it would be too risky to take any pictures on their smartphones.  And anyway, it doesn't matter.  The small, shadowy photos aren't as important as the watching eye of the viewfinder, or the self-consciousness it engenders in Hanbin.  
  
  
  
Point. _Click_. Flash.  
  
  
  
His sore, swollen lips are sealed around the base of the cock in his mouth, and another is inside him from behind, fucking him slow, with smooth, easy strokes that make him moan.  
  
  
  
"Look up at me, baby." Bobby says, in a low voice like the crunch of car tires over gravel.  Hanbin's eyes flick up at Bobby's face, and he barely flinches as Bobby snaps another picture, the flash painfully bright in the dimness of the room.  
  
  
  
Then Bobby hands the camera to Junhwe.  Junhwe has to take a hand off Hanbin's hips, but the weight of the camera settles into his outstretched palm, and he laughs softly, his voice throaty and deep. "Such a pretty slut, Hanbin.  Keep going, you know what to do."  
  
  
  
It's not quite humiliating, these pictures; seeing himself on film is nothing new.  Even still, there's a vulnerability here that never sees a stage, an openness and trust captured on film that doesn't go any further than that little square of white card, an image of himself stripped bare slowly developing in Bobby’s palm.  
  
  
  
_Flash_.  
  
  
  
Somehow, the camera is more threatening when he can’t see it, and Hanbin flinches for the first time as a burst of white light drenches his back, his thighs, his ass.  Junhwe’s hand is still tight on his hip, his rhythm torturously slow both to take the photos and torment Hanbin, who whines with desperate need, a complaint subsequently ignored.  Bobby takes the new photo from Junhwe, who wastes no time snapping another, this time of himself fully seated in Hanbin’s tight pink asshole.  
  
  
  
“Look at yourself, completely stuffed full like the slut you are.  All these pictures to prove it.” Bobby says with relish, snapping the photo against his fingers to make Hanbin twitch.  
  
  
  
Junhwe hands the camera back to Bobby.  His hand free now, he brings it down with immense force on Hanbin’s ass, the impact loud in the little room, Hanbin’s resultant moan louder.  
  
  
  
There are only a few pictures left, but Bobby knows to save the last one.  
  
  
  
And the last photo they take is of Hanbin from the mouth down, lying dazed and limp on his back, cum decorating his body from his bruised lips to his navel, splattered across his tattoos and his pink, abused nipples like sugar glaze.  In the corner of the photo, Bobby’s knee can be seen on one side of Hanbin’s chest, and in the other corner, Junhwe’s generous lips on the edge of Hanbin’s jaw.  
  
  
  
Hanbin will want them thrown out, burned, destroyed, once they’ve calmed down; he’s too embarrassed by the way they see him, so exposed and vulnerable, too aware of the risks of keeping a record.  Bobby will promise to do just that but keep them anyway, every single one.  Junhwe will remember everything.


	9. [Bobby/B.I, E]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'ed remix. The very first draft of _Six-Two_.

Hanbin's so engrossed in his laptop that he startles when Bobby flops down next to him, the rolling chair scooting under his weight.

 

"Where's Teddy-hyung?" Bobby says, pulling Hanbin's headphones off and leaning in to kiss his cheek.  Hanbin flinches, shakes Bobby off with a jerk of his shoulder.

 

"Not here," Hanbin hisses irritably, "the hyungs went to get coffee.  They'll be back any second."

 

"But I'm horny." Bobby whines, scooting his chair closer, his mouth trailing dangerously close to Hanbin's ear, and Hanbin shivers.  Bobby's hands coast over Hanbin's chest, the heel of his palm rubbing suggestively against Hanbin's nipple, the hardness of which is beginning to show through the thin fabric of his baggy white tank top.

 

Bobby scoots a little bit closer, and Hanbin can feel how hard he his, the stiffness of his cock poking Hanbin in the lower back.

 

"You're always horny," Hanbin snaps, prying Bobby's hand out of the large armholes of his cutoff tank, "dude, someone could see us."

 

"Can't help it.  That poster of Janet Jackson always gets me mad hard."

 

"Creep."

 

"Hmm, but you're getting hard too." Bobby purrs, his fingers closing on the shape of Hanbin's half-hard dick through his shorts.  "You sure you're not feeling it?  Even a little?"

 

Hanbin lets out a tiny moan.  "Jiwon--seriously--"

 

"I'll be quick, then." Bobby says, his fingers prying deftly past the waistband of Hanbin's loose shorts.  Hanbin growls.

 

"I'm gonna fucking kill you.  Hurry up."

 

"I said I'd be quick." Bobby's hand closes tight around Hanbin's cock, a slow stroke upward.  "Want me to suck you off?"

 

"Will you please shut the _fuck_ up and get on with what you're doing." Hanbin says without venom, his hand closing over Bobby's fist to set the rhythm.  Bobby's hand is dry and the rub of his palm isn't the most comfortable, but Hanbin closes his eyes nonetheless, a tingle of warmth beginning to pool in his belly.  Behind him, Bobby's mouth is on his neck, the insistent prod of his cock in the small of Hanbin's back almost painful.

 

"Fuck, this is so fucking risky." Hanbin moans, even as his hips begin to jerk forward into Bobby's hand, his fingers gripping tight into the arms of his rolling chair.

 

"Yeah," Bobby mutters, grinding openly against Hanbin's ass, his hand moving faster in Hanbin's lap.  "It's pretty dangerous.  What if someone saw, huh?  Bet they'd wanna see you come, watch your pretty face when you let go."

 

Hanbin tips his head back onto Bobby's shoulder, letting out a little groan of pleasure.  "Fuck, you're such an asshole."

 

"No, cause if I was an asshole, I'd fuck you bent over this couch." Bobby says against Hanbin's ear, taking the lobe between his lips to make Hanbin shiver and moan.  "Or I'd make you sit on my cock like you enjoy so much."

 

"Shut up." Hanbin says, the deepening flush in his cheeks beginning to spread down his neck.

 

"Yeah, and anyone would be able to walk in and see you riding me." Bobby continues, his other hand coming up to cup Hanbin's chin, trace his fingers across Hanbin's parted lips softly.  "Anyone could watch you getting fucked wide open, babe.  And you'd love it, you'd love them seeing how I make you whine and beg for it." 

 

Hanbin throttles a moan as his hips buck up, and he jerks in Bobby's hold, his dick throbbing in Bobby's hand as he comes, Bobby making sympathetic noises in his ear, encouraging him.  He strokes Hanbin through it, cum dripping down slickly between his fingers and Hanbin's cock until Hanbin pushes his hand away, gasping.  There's cum all over his shorts, and Hanbin wipes at it fruitlessly, reaching for a tissue when the sound of a door behind them makes them both freeze.

 

Bobby shoots away on his rolling chair, and Hanbin swiftly adjusts his shorts in a panic, trying again with little success to wipe the cum off.

 

"Ready to start?" Teddy says, raising two cups of coffee, and then stops, taking in Hanbin's beet-red, furious expression and Bobby, flagrantly rummaging in his sweater pocket, the shittiest grin on his face.  "Are you two...uh... _done,_  or do you need a minute?"

 

Bobby dips a hasty bow before slipping past Teddy and out the door, leaving only a cackle of mischief in his wake.

 

"In a second," Hanbin says in exasperation, getting to his feet unsteadily.  "I need to go strangle a certain hyung of mine."

 

"Sorry, that's not on the schedule," Teddy says airily, "but trust me, you can get him back later.  It's time to get to work."

 

"Yes, hyung." Hanbin says, slumping back down into the chair, feeling gross and sticky and hideously embarrassed. "Um...sorry."

 

"Trust me, this isn't the first time, and it probably won't be the last." Teddy says casually.  "You wouldn't believe the number of times I walked in on Jiyong and Seunghyun...ugh." He shudders affectedly.  "Might I suggest you choose somewhere else to get frisky, though.  This is a pretty dangerous place to get busted."

 

"It wasn't me!" Hanbin protests, hardly even realizing that he's arguing with Teddy about getting a handjob.

 

"Whatever, dude.  Why don't you take five and get cleaned up, punch Jiwon in the nuts, whatever.  I'll get set up so that when you get back we can get going."

 

Hanbin's washing his hands and dabbing unsuccessfully at his defiled shorts in the bathroom when Bobby opens the door, and instantly he's pressed against Hanbin's back, hands under Hanbin's shirt, smoothing over his belly, a growl low in his throat.

 

"Please, for fuck's sake, Jiwon," Hanbin gasps, though he barely resists as Bobby bundles him into the bathroom stall.  "I only have five minutes--"

 

"Let's be quick, then." Bobby says roughly, grinning, and Hanbin rolls his eyes. 


	10. Holding Out [B.I/Bobby, E]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Light D/s, orgasm control, phone sex

Bobby FaceTimes Hanbin late, droopy-eyed in the early morning light there but his face cracks into a bright smile when he sees Hanbin reclining on the bed, face against the pillow and body curled around his phone.

 

“You look so comfy.  I’m glad to be home, but I wish you were with me.” Bobby murmurs, phone too close so that all Hanbin can see is the dark slits of his eyes, the dimly lit shape of his nose and lips, his teeth in a wide smile.

 

“Me too.” Hanbin says softly.  “I’ve been really horny since you left.” 

 

“Oh yeah?” Bobby’s eyes crinkle up into a smile.  “Feeling lonely, babe?”

 

“In a manner of speaking."

 

“Well, now I _really_ wish I was there.” Bobby mutters, grinning up at Hanbin.  Hanbin’s already rolling onto his back, legs spread, though he hasn’t made any move to touch himself yet.  “I miss fucking your brains out, babe.”

 

“You’ve only been gone for twenty-four hours, though."

 

“I pretty much miss fucking your brains out whenever I’m not, y’know, _actually_ fucking your brains out."

 

“Mmm.” Hanbin says vaguely, palming himself through his shorts, and Bobby smirks.

 

“Touching yourself?"

 

“Can I?” Hanbin whispers.

 

“Yeah, baby, of course you can.” Bobby purrs, licking his lips.  “I wanna see you."

 

Hanbin holds the phone up at a better angle, the dim backlighting washing the color from his face, and Bobby growls with pleasure as Hanbin wraps a hand around the thickness of his cock.  He’s used to FaceTiming, but this is new and feels a little illicit, and he likes it, likes the way Bobby growls at him, lips wet and eyes focused on Hanbin’s face as he falls apart.

 

“Ah, fuck.  Wish you were here to help.” Hanbin murmurs, the camera jiggling with the motion of his hand as he jerks himself, imagining Bobby’s mouth around him.

 

“Me too, babe.  Feels good?  Thinking about me?” Bobby croons, and Hanbin can tell by the way Bobby’s lip is caught between his teeth that he’s touching himself too.

 

“Thinking about you sucking me off.” Hanbin says, his voice uneven as his balls tighten, orgasm creeping up on him.  “Gonna—hyung, I’m gonna come—” 

 

“Stop.” Bobby commands, and Hanbin whines, his hand flying away from his cock even as a momentary lurch of hatred rocks through him.  “Show me your hand."

 

“Please—” Hanbin whimpers, his free hand splaying across his chest to show Bobby he’s not cheating.  “Please, I want to—” 

 

“Good boy.” Bobby murmurs, “No touching."

 

Hanbin scowls in frustration.  He’d been so close, but Bobby knows him so well, knows just how to get Hanbin worked up, and he always wants to play.

 

“I wonder if I should just make you wait till I get back to come.” Bobby says thoughtfully.  “Make you really beg for me when I get back.” 

 

“Please no.” Hanbin says, resistant where he knows he can get away with it, where Bobby can’t punish him for being insubordinate.

 

“Can you imagine how keyed up you’ll be after two weeks of not coming?” Bobby says with relish. “Think you can hold out that long?”

 

“No.” Hanbin whines mutinously.

 

“I think you can. I want you to.” Bobby whispers.

 

Hanbin bites his lip, bees buzzing vigorously in the pit of his stomach as the heat of disappointed orgasm begins to trickle away. He’s impatient and full of resentful suspense at Bobby’s command, but—

 

“…Yes, hyung.”


	11. This Hot Night (Can't Spend It Doing Nothing) [Bobby, M]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bobby solo fic, M (masturbation, fantasy, voyeurism).

Alone time is an incredible stroke of luck, and Bobby knows he should be counting every single blessing he’s ever had for the empty apartment he’s got to look forward to, but instead he finds himself wondering what the hell he’s going to do with himself for two hours.

 

The rest of the group is still at the studio, and Hanbin’s been all sharp teeth and spleen lately, exercising his bite on anyone and everyone for the smallest infractions.  Bobby, however, had needed to leave early for a doctor’s appointment (not that he’s complaining, because Hanbin’s been in a towering mood thanks to the overwhelming stress of promotions), and it’d have taken so long for him to get back to the practice building that it would have ultimately been a waste of time.  

 

And it was with ill grace that Hanbin had cleared Bobby off for the rest of the evening, to the grumbling and protesting of the other members, only to be swiftly shouted down.

 

Bobby lets himself into the apartment, and as expected, it’s perfectly quiet.  He finds this less soothing and enjoyable than he’d expected; he’s so used to Junhwe’s noisiness, to Hanbin’s carrying voice and Chanwoo’s video games, that the silence feels oppressive, almost threatening—too big, too quiet.

 

He toes his shoes off and drops his bag by the door, stopping in the kitchen on his way to his bedroom for a bottle of water and to hunt through the cabinets for something tasty.  He’s not really hungry, though, and everything in the cupboards needs cooking, which he doesn’t feel like doing anyway.

 

Finally he wanders into his room, still feeling strangely lost, the silence so deep and occlusive that Bobby hums awkwardly to himself just to break it.  He’s still got absolutely no clue what to do with himself, and he wonders if there’s time to play video games or watch a movie, or if he should kill an hour filming himself dancing in order to propitiate Hanbin, who’s certain to take Bobby’s early retreat out on him the next day.

 

But there’s only one real purpose for solo time in their dorm, and it isn’t for lesser pursuits such as dance practice or movies.  Bobby’s blood gives a funny, hot little lurch, as if reminding him of that purpose, and Bobby feels the heaviness of arousal tightening unprompted in his belly.  Well, it’s not _that_ unexpected—after all, Bobby’s twenty and hasn’t had more than ten private minutes in what seems like the last four years, and he figures that he may as well indulge in a little stress relief.

 

He settles on the bed, tossing his snapback across the room onto the top of the dresser and raking his hand through his hair, exhaustion weighing heavily on his bones too.  Maybe he’ll take a nap afterward; he hadn’t been aware of how tired he was until he’d sat down.

 

But his dick gives a tiny, urgent, eager throb, and he scoots back on the bed, half-propped up on the pillows, pushing the heel of his hand firmly against his crotch and biting his lip at the pleasure that courses through him at once.  Then he digs his phone out of his pocket, typing clumsily with his left hand while his right is already prying the button of his jeans open.

 

He doesn’t watch porn when he jerks off.  The vestiges of his religious upbringing are still operating on him, and while he’s largely overcome the guilt of masturbating, porn is just too lewd for his taste, too flagrant.  He’s never been able to get past the embarrassment and shame of it all, even when Hanbin and Junhwe had watched it with him, their unabashed responses somehow making Bobby _more_ embarrassed.

 

It’d been even worse when Junhwe had started a running commentary, talking filth in a low, husky voice over the moans spilling from Hanbin’s phone speaker; Hanbin, unbothered, had said nothing, reaching into his pants as if he _weren’t_ actually jerking off in front of two of his bandmates.

 

Junhwe hadn’t been far behind, still talking, his voice breathier and lower as he touched himself, and Bobby had been forced to make an excuse to leave at that point, so hard he could barely walk straight but much too ashamed to do anything about it in front of them, especially when they were the cause of it.  Bobby wonders how they got to be so shameless.

 

_Oh, you’re such a bad girl_

 

And so instead of porn, Bobby chooses a song off his playlist, something with a heavy-hitting bass line and deep, throaty electronics, both quick and sensual to set a pace for his hand.  He turns up the volume as loud as the little speaker will go, wishing he’d thought to grab some headphones but unwilling to move too far from his current position, especially with his underwear pushed down over his thighs and his cock curving hard and eager up toward his belly.  He strokes himself lazily at first until he finds the rhythm of the song, feeling caressed by the music rather than his own hand.  It’s wonderful.

 

He casts about idly for a fantasy, something to focus on, and lands once more on Hanbin’s hand curled around the length of his cock, phone held at arm’s length for Junhwe and Bobby’s benefit.  Bobby’s seen Hanbin naked a hundred thousand times, at least, but that had been the first time it’d been _different_ for him, something that had made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck.  The very same thing happens as he remembers it, his scalp tingling, and another, stronger lurch of heat washes through his belly already in anticipation of orgasm.

 

Junhwe’s murmured filth seems to seep into the background of his memory, his voice whispering along to the beat of the music.  Bobby closes his eyes, focusing his thoughts, stroking himself for real now and beginning to feel warm all over.

 

_Yeah take that fucking cock_

 

Bobby grunts with effort, the memory of Junhwe’s voice almost as distinct as if he were really speaking in Bobby’s ear, and at that point Hanbin had moaned very softly—Bobby can’t believe he still remembers that, but he’s exceedingly glad he did—and he can recall exactly the shape of Hanbin’s parted lips, the tremble of his body as he’d struggled with the oncoming rush of his orgasm, teetering on the brink of pleasure.

 

_So fucking good_

 

It’s ineloquent nonsense now, nothing more than sexy babble; Bobby can’t even remember quite what Junhwe had said anymore, his mind piecing together dirty words or sometimes moans in Junhwe’s voice.  The renewed flood of embarrassment meets the tight spiral of Bobby’s arousal low in his belly, twisting tighter, his cock so hard in his hand that it aches.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Bobby hisses aloud, his face hot, his hand beginning to cramp with the tightness of his grip.  It’s freeing to have the ability to make noise like this, unabashed, unheard, _alone_ ; Bobby’s never been able to keep quiet when he comes.  Not like Hanbin, who’d come with only the barest smothered gasp even as cum shot across the leg of his pants and poured over the palm of his hand.

 

And even if Bobby _had_ been able to, he likes the sound of his own voice, and it’s impossible not to pant and moan with the force of his rising orgasm pounding inside his belly, threatening to spill and overwhelm him.

 

_Yeah, you like that, don’t you?_

 

The beat of the music is an afterthought now, the speaker playing close to his head, and his breath hitches in time with the pace of his hand, a thread of clear precum strung from the head of his cock to his belly.

 

It isn’t a far leap at all from memory to imagination, and Bobby’s mind helpfully shows him the thought of _Hanbin_ on his cock, with Junhwe’s hands wound tightly into Hanbin’s dark hair and pushing him down, Hanbin’s throat lurching as he chokes on Bobby’s length, with Junhwe whispering to him in that low, sensuous voice.

 

_Make him cum.  Swallow every last drop, bitch_

 

“ _Shit_ , yeah—ah, ah, _fuck!_ ”

 

If Bobby weren’t so busy coming, he’d be shocked, maybe even a little horrified by the fantasy his brain had concocted in the heat of the moment.  As it is, he’s surprised more by the suddenness of his orgasm than anything else, panting and trembling as heat fills him up, washes over him swiftly, drawing him tight and releasing, and then slowly draining out of him with each pulse of pleasure.  He squeezes himself through it, wringing every last bit of enjoyment out of his orgasm and every last bit of cum out of his cock onto the hem of his t-shirt, until the final remnant of heat ebbs out of him.

 

He lies still for a few minutes like that, limp with exhaustion and satisfaction, his softening cock held loosely in his messy hand.  Trying hard not to think about the implications of whatever he’d just been fantasizing about (he’s already trying his best to forget it), he reaches over and tugs a tissue from the box on the bedside table, wiping at his fingers and shirt as best he can before giving it up as a bad job and pulling the shirt off entirely.

 

Bobby skips the remainder of the song that’d been playing to the next one, and then he rolls onto his side, tucking himself back into his boxers but not bothering to do up his jeans.  He’ll take care of that later, once he’s changed his shirt.  It’s not as if he’s in any hurry; the others still won’t be back for some time, and Bobby’s still too lazy and sated to want to move just yet.

 

(Which is fortunate, because hidden in the darkness of the unlit hallway just this side of Bobby’s open door is a breathless, guilty Hanbin leaning weak-kneed against the wall, his pants undone and his own hand splattered with cum.)

 

 


	12. [Hanbin/Junhoe/Chanwoo, E]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hanbin/Junhwe/Chanwoo OT3, first time, etc. Rimming, fingering, etc.
> 
> This is an old, OLD piece I started in 2013ish for another fandom, and then I discovered I'd changed the names and then forgotten about it, and I rediscovered it hunting through my WIPs for recyclable writing. I liked it enough to throw it up here; don't critique it for content, it's literally YEARS old with name changes, haha.

“Um, I’ve,” Chanwoo mutters, his eyes darting back and forth in an uncharacteristic display of nervousness, “I’ve never…done this before.”

 

Hanbin freezes, halfway through unbuttoning Chanwoo’s shirt, while Junhwe blinks and then runs a hand through his hair. Junhwe is kneeling near the head of the bed, Chanwoo’s head in his lap while Hanbin is on hands and knees between Chanwoo’s spread legs. Junhwe’s adam’s apple bobs once in his throat.

 

“Seriously? Wait…like, _ever_?”

 

Chanwoo shakes his head, his face flushing, looking anywhere but into Hanbin’s face, which has gone white in light of this news. “Sorry.” He says weakly.

 

“No, not that,” Junhwe waves his hand impatiently. “Why didn’t you tell us you hadn’t done this? Shit, is it your first time completely?”

 

Chanwoo nods this time, apparently unable to speak. Hanbin rubs a hand over his eyes. “I—I don’t know how I feel about this.” He says finally to Junhwe, who looks down at Chanwoo.

 

“What do you think?” He asks, and Chanwoo’s tongue swipes out over his lower lip. His expression is impassive once again, but his eyes are still betraying his nervousness. He takes a deep breath.

 

“I want to.” He says, his voice suddenly stronger, and saying it out loud seems to bolster his conviction. “Yeah, I want to do it.” And he reaches back up to ball his fists into the front of Hanbin’s shirt and pull him back down. Junhwe chuckles quietly.

 

“So greedy for a maknae.” Hanbin murmurs against Chanwoo’s lips, which part in a clumsy kiss that nonetheless rakes across Hanbin’s nerves like flint and tinder. A little part of him is rebelling at the idea of taking Chanwoo’s virginity like this, but a bigger, louder, tougher part of him is drowning the rebellious part in the pit of bubbling need in his stomach.

 

“Jinhwan is going to flip when he finds out.” Junhwe remarks offhandedly as Hanbin finishes undoing the buttons on Chanwoo’s shirt.

 

Chanwoo laughs softly, distracted by the way two pairs of hands slip beneath the fabric of his undershirt and pull it over his head. “You mean _if_.” He mutters, his voice a little pitched when Hanbin begins to work on his belt and Junhwe tips Chanwoo’s head back for a kiss, carefully supporting the back of Chanwoo’s neck with both hands. Chanwoo moans, and Hanbin feels the vibration of his throat against his open mouth.

 

“I’m pretty sure he’ll know if you keep up those noises.” Hanbin murmurs, tongue brushing the hollow of Chanwoo’s bared throat. Chanwoo doesn’t respond, but the next moan that leaves his throat is even louder than the last, and Junhwe smirks at Hanbin over Chanwoo’s shoulder.

 

Chanwoo’s always imagined what it’d be like to do this, but he’d never had any experience to base the anticipation on. Curious makeouts with Donghyuk and Yunhyeong had been fun, but Yunhyeong had refused to go any further than kissing with him, and Donghyuk’s simply too shy to move forward (he’d jumped and shied away each time Chanwoo had reached for the drawstring of his pants, so Chanwoo hadn’t pushed it any further). He definitely hadn’t wanted to miss out on this opportunity, though, and he’s relieved that Junhwe and Hanbin aren’t too put off by it.

 

His pants and boxers slide down his legs and fall carelessly in a pile on the floor, and though he’s been naked hundreds of times in front of the other two before, there’s a piercing quality to their combined gaze, scraping his skin like sandpaper as they rove over his exposed body. He has an urge to cover himself with his hands, but instead he reaches back and clings to Junhwe’s forearms to ground himself.

 

“Stop staring.” He mumbles, licking his lips, and Hanbin blinks and clears his throat as if coming out of a trance.

 

“Sorry,” Junhwe says unapologetically, disengaging an arm from Chanwoo’s vice-grip to trace a finger over the tendon standing out in Chanwoo’s neck, then down to gently thumb at his nipple. “We don’t do it in the dark. Don’t feel self-conscious; we only stare at what we like.” Chanwoo squirms at the touch, the breath leaving his lungs in a quiet rush that spurs Junhwe to do it again, his touch lighter as he teases the pink nipple to a point.

 

Chanwoo has barely been touched, and he jerked off in the shower only this morning, but he already feels like he’s about to explode from all the pressure building in his veins. He closes his eyes rather than look at the way Hanbin is tracing long hands over his ribs, his belly, pushing his thumbs gently into the ridges of his pelvis before gliding down and pressing into the pale flesh of Chanwoo’s long, long thighs.

 

“Fucking long legs.” Junhwe remarks in a low voice, letting out a long breath of admiration. “Can’t wait to put them around my neck, Chanwoo, you have no idea.”

 

“I was here first,” Hanbin murmurs, bending Chanwoo’s knees to his chest with hands behind his knees, “so you can just wait your own damn turn.”

 

“Technically, I was here first. But I never said I minded watching.” Junhwe says smugly. “Just don’t fucking wreck him before I get a turn, okay?”

 

Chanwoo shivers between them, his mouth falling open silently as Hanbin rubs a dry finger up the cleft of his ass. “Alright?” Hanbin whispers, barring Chanwoo’s legs up with his forearm for better access, and Chanwoo whimpers softly.

 

“Yeah. It’s—it’s alright.”

 

“Stop me if you don’t like it, okay?” Hanbin kisses the spot where Chanwoo’s thigh joins the scant flesh of his ass, kneading the skin with both hands. Chanwoo nods, his mouth dry with excitement.

 

Chanwoo gasps and shivers again when he feels the wetness of Hanbin’s tongue, warm and wet and intense against such a sensitive part of his body—“Oh my god.” he whines, grabbing at Junhwe again, his eyes widening in surprise.

 

Hanbin laughs, rubbing the pad of a spit-slicked thumb over the pucker of Chanwoo’s entrance alongside his tongue. “Oh my god!” Chanwoo repeats, his body vibrating like a plucked wire. “ _Hyung_ —”

 

Hanbin sinks a slicked finger into Chanwoo, and Chanwoo responds with hips thrusting upward instinctively, the tip of his cock painting his belly with clear precome. Hanbin pushes in deeper, flickers the flat of his tongue around Chanwoo’s entrance again, and Chanwoo gasps.

 

“That’s it, huh?” Junhwe says, brushing Chanwoo’s hair out of his eyes, and Chanwoo blinks lazily up at him, his eyes alternately hazy and startled with the sensations racing through him.

 

“What’s it?” Chanwoo says slowly, with a touch of mild impatience.

 

“Don’t bother him, Junhwe.” Hanbin says, raising his eyebrows. He wiggles his finger deep inside Chanwoo’s body, and the instant reaction he gets is worth it: Chanwoo twitches, a low moan in his throat, looking up at Junhwe with wide eyes.

 

“You’re bothering me.” Junhwe retorts, reaching down to tug Hanbin’s ear until he whines, distracting him from his task.

 

“For fuck’s sake, there’s plenty of me to go around,” Chanwoo says thickly, “now shut the fuck up. Especially Junhwe-hyung.”

 

Hanbin laughs, and Chanwoo’s next sound is a loud moan. “If you say so.”


	13. Sucking Honey [Hanbin/Jinhwan-centric, kink, E]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sucking honey" = a Korean metaphor describing an easy, enjoyable job, or getting a lot of benefit/reward for little effort.
> 
> [tags: Jinhwan/Hanbin, heavy BDSM, bondage, gags, blindfolds, stimulation play, sensation play, sensory deprivation, Sybian, dual submissive, butt plugs]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCK you guys this is so filthy it's all Gerti's fault 
> 
> I AM SORRY no i'm not

Every time they do this, Hanbin’s sure the ideas can’t get any crazier than they already are; and every time, Hanbin swears blind that he’s not going to get talked into it, that he’s going to hold out against Junhwe’s sulking and Bobby’s solicitation and Donghyuk’s flirting.

 

And every time they do this, Hanbin’s proved a fool.

 

Because nobody’s quite as weak for Jinhwan’s soft mouth as Hanbin is, not even Junhwe, who crumbles the instant the mat-hyung glances at him across the table.  Hanbin’s weaker than ever when Jinhwan hums and moans and pouts his lips prettily, looking at Hanbin through half-closed eyes, and insists that no, he doesn’t want to do this alone, _ so won’t you please join me? _

 

By the time Hanbin catches on, usually considerably later in the game after he’s been pushed, dragged, shoved or stuffed into whatever situation he’s gotten into, it’s both too late (short of the inviolate safeword) to renege on his promises and he’s too far gone to remember what had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

 

At any rate, Hanbin had allowed himself to be tempted, had allowed Jinhwan to sway his resolve like the certifiable bonehead he is, and…now he’s here.

 

Hanbin had been blinded from the start by a strip of black silk, and he assumes the same of Jinhwan, so he’s not  _ entirely _ sure what’s happening.  What he does know is this: He’s going to have to be pried apart from Jinhwan when they’re done, or at least hosed down, because right now they’re everything short of glued together with bodily fluids and sweat.

 

Hanbin’s interlocked with Jinhwan like one of those metal puzzles he’d seen Yunhyeong struggling to figure out the other day, snared face to face in an obscene amount of rope.  Their bindings keep their arms secured around each other by the wrists in tight hugs; Jinhwan’s left leg is slung over Hanbin’s right hip, Hanbin’s right leg over Jinhwan’s left hip, twisted like a pretzel and again, secured with Chanwoo’s ropes until they barely have room to breathe against one another.  Jinhwan’s face is buried in Hanbin’s neck, and Hanbin hooks his chin over Jinhwan’s shoulder, held together tightly from chest to hip.

 

As for their other senses, those had been dealt with as well; wireless earbuds had provided the perfect method of fucking up Hanbin’s ability to hear anything, thanks to Bobby’s dubstep now pounding in his ears.  Ball gags keep their tongues in place, the straps making the corners of Hanbin’s mouth ache, but even if they could speak, they wouldn’t have much to say.

 

Hanbin lost track of where he was quite awhile ago, thanks to the silencing of all his other senses, leaving just one for him to enjoy and appreciate: touch.  And boy, what he feels is like nothing else he’s ever experienced in his life.  Everything dark, sultry, wet and hot, his entire universe reduced to Jinhwan limp and panting into his neck, and the heat and slickness of cum and sweat and drool from the ballgags dripping off Jinhwan’s chin to trickle between their chests.

 

Given only one knee to balance on apiece and a silicone butt-plug each, they’d found it harder than expected to balance on the domed surface of the narrow Sybian they’re straddling together, but somehow they’ve managed not to fall over, though their legs are aching and half-numb from the vibrations.

 

Someone in the room has the remote, and Hanbin’s lost count of how many times they’ve cycled the damn thing on and off at random, teasing and torturing the two of them mercilessly; their positioning forces their hips to angle upward, and the Sybian is intense, transferring those vibrations up through the bases of the plugs with ruthless precision.

 

The both of them are nearing total exhaustion; Jinhwan’s struggles against him are getting weaker, each successive orgasm sapping them little by little and leaving them wrung dry and bucking against each other with near-painful overstimulation, and yet Hanbin still twists and jerks with helpless eagerness each time the thing comes to life between his legs.

 

Their bellies are slick and hot with the remnants of multiple orgasms, and yet there’s no sign of it stopping.  The Sybian kicks to life between their legs, and though Hanbin hears nothing at all, he has the impression of the rumbling of a mighty dynamo coming to life, of the thunderous growl of a monstrous animal.  Jinhwan’s body cords tight with pure reaction, his hips jolting to grind against Hanbin’s and kickstarting Hanbin’s own response.

 

His whole body draws tight like an echo to Jinhwan’s tension, the vibrations making his insides seizing tight on the plug.  There’s added stimulation, too, in what little room they have to move their hips against each other, Jinhwan rutting helplessly against him.  His hot drool slips down Hanbin’s collarbones, his forehead pressed so hard against Hanbin’s neck that Hanbin thinks he might fall over, his panting breaths gusting hot and erratic like the heaving of his chest.

 

Unfortunately for Jinhwan, the liquid heat and sudden yank of Hanbin’s orgasm hits several seconds after his own.  The added stimulation of Hanbin’s hips rutting automatically against Jinhwan’s sensitive cock is so intense that he jerks back helplessly, trying to get away but only succeeding in pulling Hanbin forward.

 

When— _ if _ —they get out of this, Hanbin’s going to choke Jinhwan in his sleep, just as soon as he gets the feeling back in his hands.


	14. Chilseok [Junhwe/Bobby, Gen]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Katzengefluster, thanks to her prompt from a list drabble game:
> 
>  
> 
> _things you said under the stars and in the grass - JunBob_
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you like it bro!! Thank you for the prompt! <333

“See that one?” Bobby says after a moment, the silhouette of his arm making a point against the sky.Junhwe rolls his head to one side lazily.Bobby’s finger sketches a line, black against the deepest blue, but Junhwe honestly sees nothing but stars, unable to make sense of his diagram.

 

“Yeah.” He lies, scooting a little more to the left.

 

He’s not much of a stargazer, having rarely had the pleasure of seeing such a spectacular sky outside of the bright city lights of his hometown, and even more rarely still the energy or the opportunity to appreciate such unusual sights.

 

But it’s refreshing to lie here in the middle of the park with Bobby, even if it’d felt a little awkward at first, sitting a few feet apart and trying not to get caught staring.Lying down is much easier, because they can look up, and never have to chance the embarrassment of catching one another’s eyes.

 

The cricket noise seems distant, almost muted; the sweet smell of grass is all around, the air still warm from the hot summer weather.He’s never seen a sky so clear and dark, scattered with innumerable stars and a stripe of milky color splitting the sky that Junhwe’s not entirely sure he hasn’t imagined.

 

“Show me again.” Junhwe says quietly, rolling to one side, trying to see it from Bobby’s point of view.

 

Bobby’s heart almost stops when he feels Junhwe’s arm press against his own, warmth seeping through his t-shirt as Junhwe scoots even closer, trying to see it from Bobby’s vantage point.Bobby draws a line against the sky again, a zigzag, but his heart is beating so fast now that his hand shakes.He hopes it’s too dark for Junhwe to notice.

 

After a moment, he decides to say nothing, trying not to look over at Junhwe.He launches into a nervous explanation, wanting to talk to distract himself from the feeling of Junhwe so close.

 

Junhwe, however, has barely noticed.He’s lulled by the silence edged with the ringing of cricket voices; by the little hitches in Bobby’s voice as they stare up into the black, blank ubiquity of space; by the gentle fragrances of soft grass and night breeze and whatever scent Bobby had decided to put on that day out of habit.All of these things and more, combined into a vast peace being laid over them like a warm blanket.

 

“Gyeonwu and Jiknyeo?” Junhwe repeats in a sleepy voice.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And…they were in love?”

 

“Right.” Bobby says.

 

“Why aren’t they together?”

 

Bobby bites his lip.“Because they spent too much time together, neglecting their duties, and so the gods separated them.One on each side of the river.”

 

“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?” Junhwe says without thinking.“Neglecting our duties?”

 

Bobby grins.“If this is what you call spending too much time together.”

 

“Would they separate us like that if we did?”

 

“If we did what?” Bobby finally chances a cautious look over at Junhwe only to find him looking directly back, his eyes perfectly black in the darkness.He’s only inches away, close enough that Bobby can smell his breath, and Bobby’s alert in every sense for him, his pulse suddenly an earsplitting racket among the wild silence.Junhwe closes his eyes.

 

“If we did what?” Bobby repeats, this time on a whisper.


	15. You Were Drunk [E, Yunhyeong/Hanbin]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble for Yokogamasy!
> 
>  _Things you said when you were drunk_ , Yunbin
> 
> Thank you for the prompt!! Hope you like it <333

They’re in the living room together when Yunhyeong starts.

 

The others are all drunk and sprawled out at random across the living room together, draped over one another, each and every one of them asleep except for the two of them.

 

Hanbin’s reclining against Yunhyeong, trying his damnedest to watch the movie, but he doesn’t know what to make of Yunhyeong rubbing his nose against the side of his neck, of the hot breath on his ear when Yunhyeong laughs quietly, reeking of whiskey and cologne and _heat_.

 

Hanbin doesn’t know why he’s surprised, either.Yunhyeong’s already kind of handsy even when he’s sober; alcohol does nothing but loosen him up, so that he flows from person to person, trying to get beneath their skin.

 

He’s _very good at it_ , and everyone knows it.

 

“You’re drunk, hyung.” Hanbin mutters, trying not to let the touches get the better of him; but he knows it’s impossible, not when Yunhyeong’s teeth close on Hanbin’s ear.It takes everything he has not to moan, but embarrassment keeps him silent.

 

“Yeah,” Yunhyeong agrees, turning so that Hanbin’s nestled more firmly between his knees.“So?”

 

He doesn’t want to tell Yunhyeong to stop, because Yunhyeong sucking on his earlobe feels so _fucking_ good already, and Hanbin _knows_ how loose and pliant he gets when he’s been drinking…and so does Yunhyeong.

 

Before he knows it, he’s hard and getting harder, trying not to whimper.Bobby mumbles under his breath, sleeptalking to someone important, and Junhwe twitches in his sleep in reply.

 

“C’mon, sing for me.” Yunhyeong hisses in his ear.Hanbin trembles.“Wanna hear you moan.”

 

“H-here?” Hanbin manages to say, in a soft voice rather higher pitched than he’d expected.

 

“Yes, _here_ ,” Yunhyeong murmurs, pulling Hanbin back a little more firmly so that he can feel Yunhyeong’s cock digging into his lower back.“You’ll make a little noise for me, or I’ll go looking for one.”

 

Hanbin at first tries to propitiate him with a tiny sound, hardly more than a grunt, but Yunhyeong hums disapprovingly.“Uh uh, not like that. _Wake them up_.”

 

Hanbin shakes his head, but Yunhyeong’s already undoing his jeans with a deft hand that’s far steadier than Hanbin expects, unless he’s less drunk than he’d given out for the rest of them to believe.Hanbin isn’t sure which of those options is more unsettling, but thankfully he himself is too drunk to spend much thought on it.

 

A warm hand pries its way beneath the waistband of his underwear, fingers curling around Hanbin’s cock as Yunhyeong shifts his weight again, this time pulling Hanbin into his lap.Hanbin bites his lip, but it’s no use.

 

“Come on, babe.Come on, let me hear it.” Yunhyeong says softly, and Hanbin swallows hard, his whole body hot with exertion and heavy with intoxication, tongue thick in his mouth, helpless against Yunhyeong’s teeth sunk into the side of his neck.

 

Hanbin can’t help yelling as he comes, and the whole dorm wakes at the sound of his voice.


End file.
